Wrong Number
by Razer Athane
Summary: Because ‘love conquers all’, isn’t that right, Kazama? -Xiaoyin, Oneshot-


Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Tekken.

Author's Note: -grins- I think… for my _oneshots, _at least… I'm crawling my way back. I just got the idea for this one, I wrote another one for a COMPLETELY new section ("Merlin", under TV Shows), and I have another few ideas floating around in my head at the moment. And this one suits a certain interpretation of the Xiaoyin pairing perfectly. Don't take offence Xiaoyin fans, I like Xiaoyin. But sometimes… don't you think Xiao's just a bit too clingy to Jin? And so, this is the stance of this oneshot. So, without further ado…

* * *

**WRONG NUMBER**

* * *

He flips his cellphone closed, frustration and anger zipping through his veins like an out of control train. He clenches the item tightly in his large, training-hardened hand, and he wonders for a brief moment why he bothered writing down those once seemingly, insignificant numbers on her tiny, smooth hand in red pen, all those years ago.

He doesn't know what else to do. Destroy the phone, and change both the Mansion's home number, and _all _of the Zaibatsu's numbers? What will that do then? She'll find some way to reach him again, that's for sure. He's already tried that with his cellphone, but to no avail. She keeps coming back again and again, and he used to be flattered, but nowadays, he is annoyed, sometimes even enraged that she tries to tread upon his privacy again.

The phone buzzes in his hand, and in a rare moment of fury, Jin Kazama hurls the cellphone into the wall on his left. It hits it with a screaming thud, and shatters into thousands of pieces, thereafter raining on the marble floors of his Mishima Zaibatsu Throne Room. The stone gargoyles glare down on it in disgust, their ugly faces permanently set in a demeaning scowl; and Jin leans back again, resting his hand on his fist, trying to quell his frustration.

It's always the same thing from little Ling Xiaoyu. A phone call, _at least _twelve times a day, with that syrupy _'hiii Jiiin!', _asking how his day was, where he was, what he was doing _at that exact moment _('because its important!') – because she was only _curious, _yet she was _mothering him _in a manner that disgusted him and upset him. And if by chance, he was on the line with somebody, be it a co-worker, a business partner or even a _friend, _a suspicious message would be left, and it sickens him to his very core.

"I know what you're up to," one would say, her voice dripping with venom.

"Who is she?" another would inquire, demand littered in her voice.

"Stop ignoring me!" a third hissed, desperate and needy.

It's as though Xiaoyu is his mother, in a bad way. She knows his whole day, she's always worried about who he is with; and it has been going on for years. And he's reset his phone countless times, he's changed his number, but he knows that as the CEO of the MFE, he can't hide from her forever, because through his work, he will always be found; and he briefly considers sending his Tekken Force after her, demanding Lars to smash his large fist through her ribcage, or for Nina to snap her neck, or for Eddy to dance circles around her before cleaving her back in two with a grapple.

She knows _everything _about you, Devil drawls.

Ring ring.

She's so… _deluded _that she has created an imaginary woman. One whose hands roam your steel body day in, day out; and who, dare I say, _loves you more _than that _brat… _In her twisted, obscure mind. Because she is _so devoted _to you… So _'devoted' _to the man who will _bring down the world._

Ring ring.

And you simply live your life. And as a consequence, she screams and cries and hits and pleads… for what?

His hand moves over to the phone on his right side, and he grasps the receiver firmly, lifting it from its holder.

For a possible 'chance' at you. For what 'you once had' with this fool… But you had _nothing. _Your words to her, when you were but young teenagers, were _meaningless nothings, _and you know this now; but she still clings onto it, believing that her fantasy has to come through. Because 'love conquers all', isn't that right, _Kazama?_

But Jin ignores the beast, and answers with as much calm as he can muster, "Hello?"

"Hiii Jiiin! It's me, Xiao. I called your cellphone but you didn't pick up. Why is that?"

He tenses in anger, clenching the phone in his hand. He says nothing, he just breathes in and our firmly, but the puffs of breath comes out like hisses from behind his teeth. He glares down the red carpet line, and to the entrance of his personal domain, ignoring the statuesque Tekken Force soldiers guarding him at the door – but it's not like he _needs _guarding. If only the people knew what he truly is beneath the iron mask.

But he keeps calm, and answers the girl who is badgering him on the other side of the line, "I'm sorry, you've got the wrong number."

"What? But –"

He hangs up, placing the phone back in its holder gently, his chocolate eyes never leaving the wooden double doors that stand opposite to him. His hand does not leave the phone, and it gently traces the edges of the four, circular buttons closest to him, representing answer, hang up, hold and redial. He leaves his index finger on the first one, delicately poised to press it again, because he knows it will come.

And it does.

"Hello?"

"Jiiin, its Xiaoyu."

"Wrong number."

And he hangs up.

And she rings again.

"Now you listen here Mister, _I know _I don't have the wrong number, I dial it _every single day _and have it _memorised!_"

"Wrong number."

And he hangs up.

And she rings again.

And he does not answer.

And she rings again.

And he does not answer.

And she rings _again._

And he _still_ does not answer.

And she rings again, and Devil moves Jin's body for him, because he is too entwined in his despair and anger to do it himself, as he stares at the door. Devil presses answer, and he listens to the screaming and the crying on the other end, of a friend that his host once had.

"Jin! Why are you doing this? I want to save you before you… before you… _You know! _I'm your _friend, _don't push me away! I'm all you have! _You need me!_"

No… she needs _you. _And you will not give it to her, will you?

_Devil stalks around in his mind, and he curls around Jin's consciousness, a cat-like smirk bestowed upon his features, and his fangs gleam in the dull light. One hand is around his thick chin, gripping it and forcefully pulling it towards him, and the other threatens to rip his head off entirely, by his hair; and to his delight, Jin has a hard look on his face, and he will not deter from the problem like he would have otherwise tried._

And then reality is back, and she is still screaming into the phone, choking on her saliva. The guards turn their heads, and for a brief moment, Jin sees their movements as robotic, and he feels Devil slink away into the corner of his mind once again, only there to be spoken to, or to speak to.

"How could you do this to me?! Don't you feel the same as me anymore!? We've been through so much together, Jin, don't throw it all away now!"

And he chuckles.

Xiaoyu hears, and she stops her crying, hiccuping now as she tries to gather her breath. She collects it, and holds it firmly, waiting for Jin to speak, her teeth chattering together like a thousand fists against solid stone. She waits and waits and waits, and she wonders why he's doing this to her, why he's been so mean ever since he disappeared at the end of the Third Tournament. It couldn't possibly have anything to do with that devil within, like Yoshimitsu had remarked? Surely… he wasn't that weak, right?

"You have the wrong number," Kazama hissed, taunting her, on the verge of _breaking _her, and _he wanted to, _"So don't call me anymore, Ling Xiaoyu."

And he crushes the phone in his hand, thereafter standing and throwing the rest of it into the opposite wall, roaring in anger.

Devil smirks, The beast…


End file.
